The River Arrow - Chub Lovers and Chronosynchronicity

Poaching is always a problem. It can take many forms, from the harmless attempt of a child to hook a trout on a worm and a bent pin to murderous high-seas netting that may destroy a complete river system's salmon stocks in a few years or even months. Individual poachers also vary enormously, from the small-time village poacher to the commercial gang bent on wholesale slaughter. Every now and then a poacher of extraordinary eccentricity pops up. 

One such was an elderly woman it was thought that she was a local retired schoolteacher of the greatest apparent respectability but with an inordinate passion for fish. She operated on the falls of a small spate river near her home. Whenever the river was up and the salmon were running she was always to be seen watching intently from a position about two-thirds of the way up the falls and off to the side. She never stood on the bridge higher up, but always on the footpath. 

For years, whenever she was seen in her favourite spot it was assumed that she was out on one of her nature rambles and simply hoped to catch a glimpse of a salmon launching itself into the air to clear the narrow falls and reach the pool above. 

So few people paid much attention to the fact that she always carried a large and curiously heavy-looking umbrella on her walks. True, it was often raining while she stood in apparent contemplation overlooking the river, but it was only much later that people remembered that, curiously, the umbrella never seemed to be open and in use.

Then one fateful morning the real purpose of the old lady's river watching was discovered. For her the discovery was sheer bad luck, for the other villagers it became a local legend that was talked about years afterwards. A newcomer to the village who happened to be a keen fisherman was out a little earlier than usual and decided to walk up the river to see if anything was happening. 

It had rained overnight and there was, he thought, a good chance that the salmon would be moving. The old lady was there before him. 

Having lived in the village all her life she knew pretty much the habits of all the locals. None would be out so early for a walk. 

As he reached the bridge above the falls the newcomer saw out of the corner of his eye an elderly woman he had noticed often around the village. He was about to shout 'Good morning' when what he witnessed left him completely speechless. 

Something silver flashed for an instant in front of the old lady and in that split second her arm, which had been holding a long, unopened umbrella aloft came down in a flash, knocking the silver object, obviously a salmon, out of its path. The newcomer moved quietly into a position that would give him a clearer view of what was going on. 

As he did so he saw the old woman leap like a girl of twenty down the steep bank and, using the handle of her umbrella, she pulled out an apparently dead, but perfectly fresh salmon. 

The newcomer was afraid the old lady would spot him so, rather than go any further on his walk, he retraced his steps back to the village, but resolved to investigate this business further. Over the following three months he saw the old lady several times in her chosen place, apparently innocently watching the falls, but she always happened to be there just after fresh rain and each time he watched her he saw that umbrella put to deadly use.

The thing that he found most astonishing was the old woman's speed and strength. She was quite clearly so experienced that she could time her blow exactly to coincide with the salmon's leap. Admittedly the river was so narrow at the falls that you could virtually jump it, but a leaping salmon is poised in mid-air only for an instant.

For the old woman that was enough no sooner was the salmon in the air than down came her umbrella with a mighty thump. The salmon crashed back into the river and she scooped it out in the calmer waters below. In an average year the old woman probably did little harm, but what she was doing was illegal. Now the newcomer was in a difficult position. He didn't want to make himself extremely unpopular in the village by going to the police, but he thought she ought to stop. 

After much deliberation he decided that the best plan would be to mention to someone, anyone in the village who was known as a gossip, that a group of schoolchildren had been inventing a ridiculous story about people poaching salmon on the local river using a strange new gaff.

Within weeks of setting the rumour going the newcomer noticed that the old lady no longer appeared at the falls and the salmon were left in peace to leap and soar free of the risk of meeting a rolled umbrella halfway to the top.

Anyway no umbrellas to be seen here !! before the season end I fancied trying to catch a nice chub on the Arrow. The Avon is proving hard work at the minute but the Arrow drops faster and obviously being a smaller river those fish are a little easier to locate.

When I arrived though the river was proper brown, a strong tea colour which when you have bread and cheesepaste not exactly ideal. Cheesepaste though I have huge confidence with and that would be the mainstay.

Swim after swim though not a bite however a missed bite in one of the swims I put some liquidised bread in and let it rest and that was the key. You see in half an hour on the way back to the car I managed three chub in less than half an hour and they got bigger with every bite.

A 2lber first, then one knocking on the door of 4lb and the last one a proper warrior of fish that give a cracking fight on light tackle going 4lb and 7 ounces. After those three fish the swim went quiet and sadly curfew came but cheesepaste was king. The bites went from zero to melt down and messing with the bait at all despite the cold temperatures. The glasses well, if they are yours let me know 💗, but they are now sadly armless but I thought rather fetching in the winter sun. I LOVE CHUB !!!